Fifteen
by thejollyape
Summary: A while back I wrote a prompt for an Officer Lunchbox supernatural AU featuring werewolves. Of course I ended up tinkering with the idea myself, mostly because it's a stupid silly little idea and those are always my favourite kinds of ideas. Don't expect regular updates. Don't expect much. Take it for what it is; the Schwarzenegger of prompts.


**[a/n: A while back I wrote a prompt for an Officer Lunchbox supernatural AU featuring werewolves. Of course I ended up tinkering with the idea myself, mostly because it's a stupid silly little idea and those are always my favourite kinds of ideas. I'd almost forgotten about it until someone reminded me recently. And since there's such an insane drought of Gail/Holly fanfic (I don't get how this couple doesn't have tons and tons of fic written about it) I thought I'd post this even if I don't know if I'm ever going to finish it. Mostly I'm posting it in an attempt to annoy someone out there so much by my lack of execution that they themselves take it upon themselves to deliver where I cannot. So don't expect regular updates. Don't expect much. Take it for what it is, a long drawn out prompt begging to be filed by surer hands.]**

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**Fifteen**

_The only way for the Police to work is that its officers stand outside of society. We're the force that needs to uphold all the laws by standing next to and above them. We drive too fast, we detain people against their will, we're allowed to use force if necessary. All those things we imprison you for doing is in our job description to do. We uphold the laws, but can only do so if there is a separate set of laws that apply to us. We become the auxiliary power that isn't included in the rest of civilized society, but wired around it on the outside. In order to do our jobs we must become outsiders; the very real boogeymen always present to ensure people don't leave their morals or ethics at home. To be a police officer we have to become 'monsters with empathy'. But adpositions sometimes get a life of their own and sometimes they even disappear entirely._

i**i

"Take a look at this," a tall brunette said and rolled away from the autopsy table she'd been hunched over for the past three hours. Standing up she arched her back and grimaced as her neck gave off an audible crack, followed by a dull pop as she repeated the action. With a sigh she rolled her shoulders before shaking her lab coat into position again, the name tag reading Stewart now askew across her chest, matching the slightly crooked glasses perched precariously on her nose. Using the back of her latex covered hand she pushed the glasses further back, but failing to make them sit any straighter.

"What you got?" her co-worker, a young man with a shaved head and lightly bearded chin and cheeks asked her. His own name tag reading Arno, in contrast sitting across his chest in a perfect line, matching the immaculately unwrinkled and clean lab coat. Reaching over to the small work table he took hold of a pair of gloves, snapping them lightly in his hands before putting the blue latex on.

"That's what I'm asking you," she said with an arched eyebrow, keeping silent and wanting his unbiased and uninfluenced opinion on the body before them.

"Holly, what do you want me to see here?" He leaned over to get a better look, frowning a little at first and then reaching for the magnifying lamp attached to the table. His frown deepened as he studied the marks on bones before him. "Animal marks?"

"I'm asking you," she repeated, reaching over for a stool to sit down on.

"Canid?" he suggested looking over his shoulder at her. "Animals aren't my biggest strength," he revealed. When she doesn't reply he looked back at the damaged bones. "But it looks a bit big for a domestic."

Looking back over at her he found her grinning widely. "What are you smiling about?" he asked, but couldn't help return the expression.

"Nothing, I'm just glad I'm not going crazy," she told him and moved back over, crowding the table next to him. "It doesn't make sense, but that's what I see as well," she added and leaned over, taking a cursory glance at them again. "It doesn't make sense," she sighed.

"Why doesn't it make sense?" he questioned as he stepped back, removing his gloves and snapping them into the waste bin. "Isn't this the unidentified body from the Humber river? There are a lot of wild animals out there."

She waved dismissively at him. "No, that makes sense, but he's the only one that does," she said, biting her lip and heading back over to the desk, discarding of her own gloves in the process. "He's obviously been out there for a long time, but these marks aren't post-mortem."

"So? Maybe he got unlucky, stumbled into a pack of coyotes or…" he suggested, but stopped at the expression on Holly's face.

"First of all, coyotes aren't much bigger than the average domestic," she stated and reached over for a stack of files. "And secondly, this is the sixth body since I started here that I've found these same type of marks on. In none of the cases they're post-mortem," she nodded with a pointedly raised eyebrow.

"What exactly are you implying?" he wanted to know as he took hold of the pile she thrust in his direction. With a gradually growing frown his brown eyes skimmed across the different autopsy reports.

"I don't know," she admitted with a defeated sigh and sank down onto her chair, the momentum making her roll back a few steps. "But there's something there."

"The hound of Baskervilles roaming downtown?" he joked with a sheepish expression making him look even younger than he was.

She shook her head at him, but didn't reply either way. As he handed her back the files she looked down at them and gave off another sigh. "I don't know, but there's something there." She grinded her teeth in frustration, but said nothing more.

i**i

"Peck, you're with me," McNally called out after having quickly checked the day's duty roster.

"Great," the blonde in question murmured, shoving her notebook back into its designated pocket. Her face oscillating between a blank stare and a scowl as she dodged fellow officers to get to her current partner.

"Fifteen-oh-three," McNally added with a huge grin on her lips as they exited the parade room.

"You're being superstitious," Gail commented at Andy's apparent glee.

She shrugged in reply, but kept smiling widely. "This squad loves me, I don't expect you to understand our love story," she teased happily. "It's complicated and beautiful."

"Whatever Cinderella," Gail sighed, already tired before the day had even begun. It wasn't so much that she disliked McNally, but...the goody-two-shoes she reluctantly called a friend was a constant reminder of how easy some things were for some people. Gail and Andy came from very similar backgrounds even if they seemed to share no similar experiences. Both from families intricately and completely tangled up in the Police force. Both growing up knowing there were no other routes they could walk down without feeling as if they missed out on something. Maybe there had been options, but when you're fed policing with your breakfast since you're old enough to lift the spoon on your own, your view of the world will be forever coloured. But whereas Andy gladly jumped into her father's footsteps in order to make him proud, Gail had sighed and at times hated her heart and destiny for roping her into a path on which she couldn't rebel against her family. Not that Andy's upbringing or life had always been a bed of roses, Gail knew that, but there was still a small part of her that envied the simplistic and seemingly uncomplicated relationship the eager brunette had with policing. Or at least from the outside it looked like a good deal that came with few self-doubts. Gail knew she was oversimplifying, but that didn't stop her.

Storing their equipment in silence, McNally took the lead by unspokenly and without challenge folding her tall frame into the driver's seat, slipping the key into the ignition and correcting her utility belt to find some measure of comfort. With decidedly less grace Gail slumped into the passenger seat, groaning a little as she folded up her legs, wincing as the belt dug into her kidneys. Looking over at the still smiling McNally she shook her head and let her head fall against the headrest. "This is going to be a long day," she mumbled, McNally ignoring her as she turned the key. Gail refrained from making any more comments, not because of any innate sense of tact, because she lacked one of those entirely, but simply cause her mouth was feeling dry and parched from having missed her morning caffeine fix. Something that in itself had made sure this day was off to a very bad start. Instead she let her fingers find the familiar buttons and dials on the radio, setting it to a gentle static shatter, not loud enough to cause a stress headache, but more like a soft background noise loud enough for them to pick up any vital information above the dim of the car's engine.

"You weren't at the Penny last night," Andy suddenly said as they pulled out of the lot and into traffic.

"Headache," Gail immediately replied without trying to sound the least bit sincere.

"Really?" Andy asked, attempting to be polite enough to not just call bullshit.

Gail shook her head dismissively and gave off a small shrug. "It's not as if I was missed," she said, not in an attempt to play the social martyr but more like pointing out a hierarchical fact.

"We're a group," McNally gently reminded her. "We're family," she rephrased it, fingers drumming subconsciously on the wheel.

"Oh, I know," Gail snorted in contempt. "But the kids' table don't have a say in what the adults discuss," she added in a tone that was a mix of frustration and the beginnings of anger.

"That's not-" Andy began, but was silenced by the look on Gail's face.

"That's exactly true."

"We all have to play our parts," Andy said a little defensively.

"No, we don't have to," she quickly replied, stressing the have with bitter emphasis. But with a defeated sigh she added, "But we do it anyhow".

After that the Fifteen-Oh-Three fell into an uncomfortable silence that managed to put a small dent even in Andy's good mood.

i**i


End file.
